


crush

by moonlitwriting



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, M/M, Teen Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, these losers are just in love idk what else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitwriting/pseuds/moonlitwriting
Summary: instead of denying the rumours, suna, who has always found absolute joy in tormenting you since you were kids, confirms he has a crush on you.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu & Reader, Suna Rintarou/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 182





	1. crush

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from my blog, by-moonflower.tumblr.com!

the rumour going around school this week is that suna rintarou has a crush on you. a preposterous rumour in your honest opinion, one that must’ve been concocted out of the deepest pits of hell, seeing that every interaction you’ve ever had with suna was _interlaced—_ to put it lightly—with animosity.

in your book, it was entirely his fault and you had every right to pin it on him, when suna has spent almost his entire life terrorising you. it might as well have begun back in kindergarten, when he wordlessly smeared black paint all over your mother’s day card. or in second grade, when he pushed you off the swings and you landed with a mouthful of sand. or even later in fifth grade when he, with full intent, hurled a dodgeball smack into your face.

now that you’re in high school, older but not any maturer, suna now goes around pulling the pettiest of pranks just to hear you yell down the hall. it’s pulling your hair in the one class you share, it’s hiding your water bottle where you can’t reach and it’s also purposely _not_ choosing you for his team in P.E. so his team can beat you and he can rub it in your face.

so, suna rintarou having a crush on you? a sick joke.

“don’t ya get it? it’s an enemies to lovers trope. he’s mean to ya because he _loves_ ya!” atsumu has been bothering you about this rumour for the whole week, always nudging you in the rib whenever suna gets called to answer a question in class, or nodding very indiscreetly in his direction whenever you two were in the same vicinity.

“shut up ‘tsumu, this isn’t fanfiction.”

you figure the only reason why people are still talking about it is because it was _suna_ ; the boy who can’t really be bothered with anything other than taking naps in the second floor computer lab or volleyball. if he’s not known for the monster he is with his spikes, then it’s for the trouble he gets into, mainly because he associates with the miya twins.

“speak of the devil,” osamu murmurs next to you.

you eye suna who had just leisurely walked into the cafeteria and you’re almost certain that the rage rousing inside of you has to do with that indifferent expression plastered on his face; so blank, so void, so absent of anything distinctly human.

that, or the way he has caught onto your glaring and is now looking directly at you from across the room. he quirks a brow with a slight tilt to his head, like he means to say “ _what_?”

atsumu then clamorously snaps his fingers in front of you, repeatedly calling your name. “excuse me? yea, can ya please not gaze into each other’s eyes while i’m having lunch? it’s disgusting.”

“i wasn’t—” but the sentence hangs off your tongue when you overhear someone snickering behind you and you find rows of smug looks down the table. high school sure is the time when everyone gets a little _too_ invested in anything that’s not their business. “whatever. it’s just a rumour that’s gonna be forgotten in a few days.”

atsumu swoops in another big chunk of rice. with his mouth full, he says, “ya but i heard someone asked suna about it and the dude didn’t even deny it.”

“huh? so he said it’s _true_?”

“dunno, but that’s not the point.” atsumu punctuates his words for emphasis. “point is: he _didn’t_ deny it.”

you almost always regret sitting with atsumu during lunch—usually because he has a new conspiracy theory he wants to lure you into—but this time, you regret it a tad bit more. his words played over in the back of your head during last period that you didn’t listen to a single word your biology teacher was saying. _was this suna’s latest way of hijacking the peace in your life?_

so you also blame it all on atsumu when you rush out of class at the sound of the last bell to go hunt suna down. you find him, unsurprisingly, at the open corridor that connects the school’s main building to the gym.

hurriedly, you walk up to him and pull the strap of his bag to grab his attention. suna isn’t fazed by the weak force. “hey. can we talk?”

he barely glances over his shoulder at you. “about?”

you circle him, bringing yourself face-to-face with suna. “the stupid rumours.”

suna rolls his eyes, stuffs a hand in the pocket of his pants. “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“yeah but it’s obviously not true and i’m tired of hearing your name when people ask me about it.”

suna takes a moment to respond, like he has all the time in the world with his slow blinks and the way he bites his cheek. his stare outlines your face and then he turns to his left, looking out at the school gate in the distance. “how is it obviously not true?”

that wasn’t the answer you were expecting. you open your mouth to retaliate but find your tongue turning dry and your throat clamming up.

when you don’t say anything, suna turns back to look at you. “let me rephrase that.” he cocks his head to the side. “what makes you think the rumours aren’t true?”

you force yourself to choke out a response, anything to make it look like his words aren’t making you nervous. “w-what are you talking about—” it feels like suna is towering over you, and not because of his height, but because of something less obvious. it’s the tension he’s creating. it’s making your skin crawl and rendering you speechless.

then he says it, something scarier than any nightmare you’ve ever had, scarier than any horror movie you’ve ever seen. “i _do_ have a crush on you.”

your mind goes blank. “t-that’s not funny, suna.”

“it’s not supposed to be,” he says, matter-of-factly.

and you genuinely don’t know how to respond to that. the way you’ve always interacted with suna, since you were kids, was just to get back at him, harder. when he got black paint on your card, you told on him to the teacher. when he pushed you off the swings, you threw a fistful of sand into his hair. when he hit you with a dodgeball, you ran up to give him a well-deserved flying kick to the chest. then how are you supposed to get back at him now? by telling him that _you’ve_ always just been in love with him?

though the thought makes you want to gag, you’re faintly surprised with how calmly you’re thinking it. objectively speaking, if suna hadn’t done all those terrible things he did, there may have been the slimmest—tiniest—chance that you’d have a crush on him, when considering your type.

a part of you is considering to take what he says at face value, that maybe the boy _did_ have some semblance of a heart and understood emotions were real things. but the better part of you, the louder, more impulsive part, with its iron guard all the way up, convinces you he’s just messing with your head.

“whatever, i’m not dealing with this,” you push past him, walking back to where you came from but suna calls your name and the way it sounds stops you in your tracks.

“i’ve had a crush on you for the longest time, i’m not kidding.”

a first year scurries by trying to get to the gym, eyes wide and a hand clamped over his mouth as he excuses himself and mumbles a string of apologies.

when you turn around, suna is right behind you. had you spun around too quickly, you very well could have landed smack in his chest. “d-don’t lie,” you sputter.

“i’m many things, but i’m not a liar.” he takes a careful step closer and you take one back. “but if it makes you feel uncomfortable, tell me. i’ll back off.”

obviously, you _should_ tell him to back off. this was suna rintarou, the boy with a twisted lifelong commitment to making you angry. but atsumu’s annoying voice snakes back into your head at the worst possible timing; _he’s only mean to ya because he_ loves _ya!_

“do you want me stop?” he asks again.

you then make the mistake of making eye contact with him because suna is boring holes into your face. no one should be allowed to look at anyone for that long and that _hard._ your eyes flit away before he can hold your gaze for a second. but what shocks you the most, what sends you into a lifetime of disbelief, is the way your lips move to tell him a timid “ _no_.”

suna chuckles at that and you want to slap yourself in the face for thinking it sounds gentle, and soft, and almost… _nice_ to hear.

“why are you getting so red in the face?” he leans in to inspect you further. you back away but he still follows.

“s-suna, one step closer and… i’ll kick you in the shin.”

the empty threat makes him smile—not that you intended for it to—and your heart commits its greatest act of betrayal, beating erratically in your chest and making it hard for you to breathe.

“relax, i have manners.” then he reaches a hand out to your face, tucks a tuft of hair behind your ear. “friday night, movies.”

you pull yourself together enough to swat his hand away. “i-i don’t wanna see a movie with you.”

he turns on his heel, makes his way to gym again, then calls over his shoulder, “wasn’t asking. see ya.”

before you get the chance to make sense of the fact that suna rintarou just asked you out, you hear someone erupt into a fit of cackles not too far behind. when you turn around, you see atsumu on the floor, clutching his stomach breathlessly and osamu beside him, holding his phone up at you.


	2. the date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after much contemplation, you decide to show up for your date with suna rintarou, despite your outwardly claims that it’d be a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cross-posted from my blog, by-moonflower.tumblr.com!

“you dressed up for me?”

suna’s voice startles you as he crept up from behind, and when you spin around to face him, he instinctively grips your shoulder to keep you from losing balance. there’s a lazy smirk on his face—which further enforces the belief that this was a _bad idea—_ and you want to wipe it off so bad, but you promised atsumu you’d be civil, so you settle for shrugging his hand off of you.

your face scrunches in disgust, “i didn’t _dress up,_ and even if i did, it definitely wouldn’t be _for_ you.”

suna gives you a once over and in the way his eyes briefly trail from the top of your head down to your toes, you can’t help but feel embarrassed in his scrutiny.

you will not ever, for the life of you, admit that you rushed home after school today and spent much too long getting ready for a _date_ that you were practically coerced into going to. up until this morning you convinced yourself that you didn’t owe suna your presence at all, but that was before atsumu—through his fits of giggles—recounted to you the odd locker room conversation they had prior to practice.

apparently, aran’s jaw dropped because suna was _humming_ to himself and the latter didn’t get the slightest irritated when everyone else pointed out his uncharacteristic good mood. in your confusion, atsumu matter-of-factly pointed out that suna must’ve been excited _—_ for a lack of a better word—about his friday night plans with you.

when you heard that, you didn’t have it in you to stand him up.

so make no mistake, you weren’t standing here in front of the cinema waiting for suna because you _wanted_ to go on this date. you only pitied him, is all.

suna hums before he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his coat. “that’s too bad, i dressed up for you though.”

his expression seems to _ask_ you to properly take a look, but with a statement like that, you can’t help but pay attention anyway.

suna was dressed in a black turtleneck tucked into black jeans, with a dark grey overcoat. he looks neat, tidy, attractive even. as you try to process the surprisingly _good_ sense of fashion he had, you realise that you’ve never really seen suna in anything other than inarizaki’s uniform, their volleyball team’s uniform and other athletic attire. you’ll excuse the things he wore in his childhood—erasing the buzz lightyear swimming trunks you had to witness when you took classes together—because bringing something like that up was like opening pandora’s box; you weren’t proud of the questionable get-ups you put together at that time either.

but, again, you could not possibly say any of this out loud because suna has been walking around with the upper hand lately and you didn’t want to give him more fuel to fluster you.

“i don’t see any difference,” you drawl, hoping with all your might that suna couldn’t tell that you were lying through your teeth.

suna cocks his head to the side, curiously studying your face. “your eyes say otherwise.”

“my _eyes_?”

“yeah.”

“and what are they saying?”

if you weren’t watching closely enough, you might’ve missed the way a certain look ripples across suna’s face, momentarily throwing his cocky attitude off. his eyes shift between yours before he pulls away and lets a soft chuckle mask the slip-up. you don’t know what triggered it—or what exactly that _look_ was—but it boosted your confidence a little. maybe atsumu’s story was just an excuse, maybe you showed up for this date to make sure suna rintarou would nothave the upperhand by the end of this night.

he changes the subject easily, however. “by the way, why’d you arrive so early? too excited to see me?”

you scoff at his brazen assumption. “as if! i arrived _exactly_ at the time we agreed on.”

“then why were you lurking around the plaza about twenty minutes before?”

_damn_. just when you think you might be able to win for once, suna goes and says something that renders you, yet again, speechless. you wonder where he learned to be so quick-witted when the boy most of the time walks around like he lives at a slower pace than the rest of you.

but there’s no use in refuting this one, because you did actually arrive twenty minutes early— _not_ because you were excited, but because you barely knew the area and thought you needed the extra time to familiarize yourself.

“i just didn’t want to get lost,” you put it simply.

suna smiles then, one that is genuine and quite the contrast from his sly smirks, but it urges you to think of the warmth that it brings. the air has been getting cooler by the nights, but the street lamps illuminate a part of suna’s cheeks that imitate the orange glow of a sun setting.

“that makes two of us then,” he says. “’samu was the one that suggested this place but i’ve never been to this part of town.”

“oh.” you look up at the vintage-styled cinema, the blinking lightbulbs circling the titles of the new shows they’re screening.

you don’t recall having agreed on a movie to watch, but one glance at the options extinguished any optimism you had for the night. you figured showing up could’ve at least given you some downtime to enjoy a new movie, but you were quite particular even on that front. none of those titles sounded good enough and you’re beginning to dread the idea of having to guard against suna’s cheap advances for at least an hour and a half in a dingy, old movie theatre.

but then suna says something that surprises you altogether—he sure has been surprising you more often these days. “so, how about we skip the movie and just explore the place?”

you eye him suspiciously, but suna doesn’t take notice as he’s busy looking around the vicinity. “you don’t want to watch something?” you ask cautiously.

he shrugs, “i asked you out ‘cause i wanted to get to know you better and,” he vaguely gestures towards the ticketing booth of the cinema, “seeing a movie with you won’t let me do that.”

_oh_. a familiar feeling washes over you as suna gently places his hand on your lower back to guide you towards the street lined with lit-up signs of local eateries and stores. you don’t even bother with maintaining a distance with him, when the feeling comes off as reminiscent.

growing up, you had always been loud about what a pain in the ass suna rintarou was most of the time, but his boyish pranks never _truly_ overwrote the rare kind things you knew about him.

when you were a kid, you remember once bumping into suna and his mother at the supermarket, where they were unloading their groceries onto the belt at the cash register next to where you and your mother was. you stuck out your tongue at suna when he stuck out his at you, but as soon as his mother turned to him, his expression immediately morphed into one of innocence. you were too focused on the revelation that suna was a two-faced idiot to really understand how, right after, he was so adamant about carrying the groceries for his mother, despite his small arms and the obvious heavy contents of the bags.

all you really remember is that afterwards, you urged the same with your own mother, begging her to let you carry the bags, which costed you a full carton of eggs later in the parking lot because you overestimated your strength.

you don’t know why the memory comes to you now. it also reminds you of the time you saw suna waiting outside the teachers’ room after school one day. you made a passing taunt about him getting into detention or something—suna only mimicked your words in a mocking, high-pitched voice as retaliation—but as you walked away, you overheard the teacher come out and tell him how nice it was that he picked up the missed class work for his sister, who was apparently sick at home and absent from school that day.

you glance to your side at suna, who’s busy watching the street and weighing the options of the restaurants nearby. the silence that engulfs the two of you is comfortable, oddly enough. you’ve never once felt obligated to work your way through conversations with him and maybe it’s because of this lack of accountability that you feel the quiet is fine.

he’s retreated his hand back to his side now, and you notice that each time his elbow accidentally brushes against yours, he subconsciously inches away from you slightly.

suna finally stops in front of a small shop and you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t called after your name. you’re only a few steps ahead but you turn around to find suna studying the blackboard menu displayed out front.

“you in the mood for ramen?” he says without looking at you.

you walk back over and do almost nothing to hide the smile on your lips. “i’m _always_ in the mood for ramen.”

the little bell above the door rings as the warmth inside rushes out against the dropping weather. it’s a cozy small space, like any other ramen eatery you’ve been at, with customers seated around the kitchen that is located smack middle of the room. you’ve always loved the authentic feel of watching the chefs make your meal before your eyes.

suna leans over the counter slightly and calls out to the chef, reiterating an order that he did not ask you for. he simply orders two of the best selling items on the menu but before you can object—and before you can get grumpy about how he didn’t even _ask_ you what you wanted to have—suna swiftly adds, “no bean sprouts for one of them,” and then he turns to you, “right?”

you’re taken aback but you at least manage to nod meekly.

the chef calls back, “just for one of them?”

“yeah,” suna nods. “thanks.” 

the both of you squeeze past a few seated customers until you settle into the space at the ends. once you both sat, you shoot the itching question. “how did you know?”

suna isn’t remotely surprised by your apprehensiveness. “that you don’t like bean sprouts in your ramen?”

“yeah.”

he shrugs his shoulders like it’s not a big deal, or maybe because he can’t even remember when he learned the fact himself. the last time you had been so stubborn about bean sprouts in your ramen was during a field trip in sixth grade when you absolutely _refused_ lunch because you spotted the evil vegetable floating in the broth. you remembered osamu gave you his bowl to water down the fuss in the end and you felt immensely sorry the rest of the trip after learning he had picked the bean sprouts one by one with his chopsticks before handing his bowl to you.

as though he knew exactly what you were thinking, suna says, “the sixth grade field trip when you wouldn’t stop cryingabout lunch.”

“i wasn’t _crying_.”

suna laughs—apparently _everything_ you do must be funny to him—then reaches out for the chopsticks, setting yours in front of you and his in front of him. “well, you didn’t shut up until i gave you my bowl.”

“uh, did you get whacked in the head by a volleyball or something?” you shift in place a little when the server comes over to set down both your bowls. “it was ‘samu that gave me his bowl.”

suna hovers over his bowl before switching his with yours, since the server set down the wrong one in front of you. he scoffs, “yeah, ‘samu might’ve been the one to hand it over, but _i_ was the one that plucked out all the sprouts you hated so much.”

_what_? you never thought twice about that incident, mostly because you were embarrassed for having caused such a scene over something so trivial. so, you didn’t really question what osamu did—or what you _thought_ he did—for you. 

then again, the surprising fact is, strangely, quite unsurprising. you could totally believe suna would do something like that. in the same way he never went around telling the whole world that it was _he_ that changed your locker passcode that one time, effectively causing you to be late for one class, suna also never went around willingly telling others about the favours he did.

“why are you suddenly being nice to me?” you blurt suddenly. your poor grip allows the ramen to slip from your chopsticks and splash back into the broth.

suna frowns, just before reaching for a napkin. “i’m not _suddenly_ being nice to you.”

“if i recall, just last week you greeted me with ‘hey, ugly’ and then stole the last portion of chicken katsu at the cafeteria only because you cut in line.”

“ _tsk, tsk_. so, you do still hold grudges.”

“that was _last week_.”

suna uses the napkin in hand to wipe away the spilled drops of broth around your bowl. he evades the smart attitude and sighs. “i don’t know,” he admits. “you know how we were growing up. being mean to you was like, the only way i knew how to act around you.”

you raise a brow at that. “that’s really bare minimum coming from you.”

“yeah, but if i suddenly act friendly without warning and you get weirded out and distance yourself from me? then what?”

spending this much time with suna—yes, this _one_ evening—was softening you from the inside. you think your heart has softened so much that you’re feeling empathy for him. having a rumour going around school that he had a crush on you was pretty weird in itself, but you suppose it really would be weirder if suna suddenly greets you with smiles in the morning or offers to walk you home after school.

maybe, if you also strip away the layers to the peculiar relationship you shared with him, you also tolerate his troublesome behaviour because it was the only way you _wanted_ to respond to his antiques. atsumu once told you that you could easily ignore suna’s entire existence and it would eventually deter him from bothering you again, but the thought of suna _not_ going out of his way to get your blood boiling, honestly scared you a little.

on some level, you did like him. you probably always have.

“i have another question,” you say.

another low chuckle leaves his lips as suna drinks straight from the bowl. “your interrogation is going to make your food go cold.”

you’re mildly aware about how conceited this would sound, but nothing could really embarrass you more than having your childhood nemesis confess his crush on you on school grounds. “why do you like me then?”

just as he’s about to reach out for his glass of water, suna pauses. not for a long time, but long enough that it’s more apparent than the shift in expression you caught earlier. you find that you quite enjoy turning the tables on him. but he’s a little hard to read; you can’t tell if he’s actually flustered, or shy, or just thinking.

but suna keeps his cool, still. “i just do.”

what’s striking about his simple response is that suna isn’t taking this opportunity to make fun of you for it—neither does he throw the question back at you, coupled with a bold assumption. in his company, you find that the answer is enough too. sometimes, there really is no particular reason or, perhaps, there are just too many to state them all.

you wrap up dinner with a conversation about the substitute teacher you both had for chemistry the day before. suna hints at an upcoming pop quiz, which your class didn’t have yet, and reveals to you the chapters covered. as usual, you accept the advice with skepticism, because suna once offered the same to atsumu and he ended up studying all the chapters that _didn’t_ make it onto the test. but suna, with a “sincere” hand over his heart, promised he wasn’t tricking you.

when you both walk up to the server to pay for dinner, suna makes a show of pushing your open wallet back into your bag because he wants to pay for your meal too. he must’ve already calculated the the bill when he ordered because suna too easily pulls out the exact amount in cash and hands it to the server before you’re able to yank your wallet out of his grasp.

suna takes one look around the small ramen shop—purposely overlooking the scowl on your face—and just as you’re about to fight him for paying for your dinner, he lets go of your wallet in favour of grabbing your hand, and then he bolts right out of the restaurant!

all you can do is yelp when suna tugs you with him, and you run—with your hand fit in his—down a few blocks, with suna glancing behind the both of you several times. you try to do the same, to at least spot what the heck he was running from, but if you didn’t watch where you were going, you’d probably end up tripping over your own feet.

when he finally does stop, in front of a clothing store that was shut for the night, you smack his arm as hard as you can manage. “what the hell was that?!”

suna, out of breath, reasons, “i thought i saw the miya twins back there.”

“the _miyas_?!”

you’re mortified for a moment—your head already aching at the mere _thought_ that the twins were spying on you—until you recall that both atsumu and osamu were out of town this weekend. they even left as soon as the bell for dismissal rang.

you elbow suna in the rib. “the miyas are out of town, asshole.”

but suna just throws his head back laughing, and you’re starting to wonder if you’re doing or saying these things on purpose just to hear that wondrous sound. you notice your hands are still in his but you pretend you don’t.

“maybe i just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

showing up to this date was such a bad, _bad_ idea and you only hope the dim streetlights wouldn’t give away the burning sensation spreading in your cheeks.

“you’re _smiling_ ,” suna sings, leaning in to look at your face as you turn away.

“i am _not,_ ” you mumble.

a chilling breeze makes its way through the narrow street and you squeeze the hand intertwined in suna’s as the cold crawls up your spine.

“cold?” he asks. “want my jacket?”

but every single word you’ve exchanged with him this evening slowly built up your courage for this very moment. you’re finally able to wipe off that smirk on his face when you let go of his hand only to step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, you find your way into his coat and the lining inside engulfs you in warmth, protecting you against the cool night.

the move definitely renders suna speechless this time around and you feel his body tense against yours, his arms awkwardly held up at his sides as he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“don’t get ahead of yourself,” you say. “i’m just cold.”

“right,” he replies, and you can _hear_ the grin in his voice—one that rings more giddy than smug. “and would you throw me over your shoulder if i put my arms around you?”

you hum, “i’m giving you a free pass tonight.”

“does that pass cover a kiss too?”

“absolutely not.”

“what about walking you home?”

you lean back to get a better look at him, only to find that suna has been watching you the whole time. he holds your gaze despite your narrowed eyes. “fine.”

suna then looks away to avoid your stare, giving you a good view of his jawline.

“now, _you’re_ smiling,” you point out.

the phrase doesn’t seem to have the same effect on him as it did on you. suna just glances back to find you still staring. his smile persists, grows wider even. “yeah,” he agrees, “how can i not?”


End file.
